* * * * *
Laura turned on the light in the landing. It cast a soft glow into Olivia’s bedroom, over the rumpled bedclothes and her upside-down silhouette. Laura turned her daughter the right way up, her body much heavier in sleep than awake, tucked the duvet back in place, kissed Olivia’s forehead and then, for good measure, planted a second kiss on her button nose.
‘Night, night, Floss.’
In her own bedroom on the other end of the landing, she used the borrowed light to get undressed, allowing her clothes to spool on the carpet at her feet, a carelessness she wouldn’t usually allow herself. As she got into bed, Esteban stirred and his arm snaked around her waist to pull her close. She felt like wriggling free, pushing him away, but the heaviness of his arm held her captive for long enough to melt some of the resentment she’d harboured from earlier.
‘I am sorry.’ His voice, thick with sleep, whispered in her ear. ‘I do not like it when we argue.’
‘I’m sorry, too,’ she returned automatically.
‘Let’s not fight about little, insignificant matters.’
‘Yes,’ she said wryly. ‘Let’s keep our arguments for the big stuff.’
Her Spanish husband, contrary to popular perception, did not thrive on spectacular arguments and passionate making-up afterwards. At heart, Esteban was a gentle soul and hated discord of any kind. Laura knew he would sleep easier now that they had both apologised.
‘How was the night?’ he enquired, pressing his cheek deeper into the pillow.
‘It was good. Everything went off perfectly. I tried to get drunk, but it didn’t work.’
Esteban chuckled. ‘And Erin?’
‘Erin was in top form.’
For a while they said nothing. The silence felt like an extra blanket on the bed, warm and comforting. For a few minutes, Laura floated on the verge of sleep, pondering it, trying it out for size, but then her thoughts woke her up, rattling inside her head and rousing the rest of her body.
‘Esteban?’
‘Mmm …’
‘Maybe I shouldn’t have encouraged Erin to do this …’
‘Huh?’
‘What if something happens to Moira while she’s away? She’ll never forgive me if it does!’
‘I don’t think …’
‘Or what if Erin has another attack? Like the one last year, but this time with strangers around and no family to help her through.’
Esteban tightened his arm around her waist, restraining her as one might restrain a toddler who was spiralling out of control.
‘Relax, lovely Laura. It is time to sleep. Let go. Relax.’
Under his command and the confinement of his arm, she did let go and finally fell asleep.
* * * * *
Erin stared at herself in the bathroom mirror. If her reflection earlier in the night had been glossy, this was the matt version, the real her. An Alice band held her hair back from her face, all traces of make-up cleansed from her skin, her eyes a little watery with tears she’d struggled to keep at bay at various points throughout the night, including now. The party was over, everyone had said their goodbyes, and in three days’ time she was getting on a plane and not returning for a whole year. She felt excited, scared, happy, sad, jittery, nostalgic and guilty, guilty, guilty.
It had been a good party, a great party in fact, and she must thank Laura again for organising it all. Cathy had started the dancing, jiving with Ian on the small dance floor, not minding at all that they were the centre of attention until others came to join in. When the DJ finished for the night, Gerry stepped in to take his place, his baritone voice keeping the music going with a traditional song about immigration that had both Erin and Laura in fits of laughter.
‘God love him, Gerry thinks I’m getting on a ship and never coming back again!’
There had been a few lowlights during the night, one when Paddy cornered her and made his usual – not remotely funny – remarks about her single status.
‘Ah, it’s the girl herself. Where have you been hiding all night?’
‘Nowhere, Paddy, I’ve been right here.’
‘Tell me once and tell me no more, are you going to meet the man of your dreams out there and bring him back with you so we can finally have a wedding?’
‘I have absolutely no idea.’
‘Ah now, Erin, you need to be more enthusiastic and committed than that. Sure, Laura brought the Spaniard back with her. And you’ll have no language barriers in Australia – it should be very straightforward! Ha, ha!’
For once Erin had struck back at him. ‘Jesus, Paddy, will you just shut up. Believe me, I’m not single by choice, and I’ll be as fucking happy as you if I meet a man in Australia!’
Paddy had jumped as though he’d received an electric shock. ‘I’m sorry, love. I was only having a joke, that’s all.’
‘Well, Paddy, it’s not bloody funny.’
Her uncle had uttered a few more mumbled apologies before making himself scarce. Now Erin found herself smiling at the recollection. Actually, maybe the scene qualified more as a highlight than a lowlight. She’d never really learned how to retaliate or stick up for herself, and cutting comebacks were something she only ever thought of when the opportunity to deliver them had long passed. Now that she thought about it, her bravery hadn’t just been spurred by the fact that she was getting on a plane and didn’t have to face her uncle for another twelve months. There was also the effect of seeing all her college friends tonight – friends who had, one by one, got married and started families, friends whom she usually caught up with at their homes, playing with their children and having cups of tea at their kitchen counters. Seeing them on a night out, dressed to the nines with wine glasses in their hands and attentive husbands by their sides, made her realise that it had been a long time since she’d seen them at this sort of social event, and for some reason that realisation made her feel distant from them – as well as very single. And how dare Paddy make light of it, how dare he act as if it was something she could change at will.
Enough brain space wasted on Paddy. She had so much else to think about, so much to cram into the next few days. What to pack and what to leave behind. Chores around the house which she wanted to finish, cupboards and drawers that needed cleaning out, that sort of thing. Bills and paperwork for Moira and herself. Not forgetting to print her tickets, pack her passport somewhere safe, and ensure that she had enough of the right currency when she got there. Should she make a list? Just this once? No, she would not. She and Laura were different in that respect. Tonight her cousin had casually commented that her life would fall apart at the seams if she didn’t keep lists. Erin had a different viewpoint. In fact she’d developed a deep mistrust of lists, and tried to conduct her life without them. As far as she was concerned, if you had to write something down in order to remember it, then you had really forgotten it. Everything she had read on Alzheimer’s and other related diseases advocated mental workouts and memory training as essential for maintaining brain function and health. And so she never gave in to the urge to write things down, always endeavouring to train her brain to remember of its own accord, without prompting or assistance. The downside of not keeping lists was that her mind never felt clear; there were always things whirling round and round in it, like now.
A sound, a click, startled Erin from her thoughts.
She opened the bathroom door. ‘Mum?’ Her voice sounded small and insecure in the draughty landing. ‘Mum?’
Moira’s bedroom was empty, the covers on the